


State of Grace

by hihilumin, IamHobbes



Series: Save Your Breath [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: HQSwiftWeek2020, Implied Cheating, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, aaaaaaaa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihilumin/pseuds/hihilumin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamHobbes/pseuds/IamHobbes
Summary: The mistake is getting into a relationship that’s fooling no one in the first place, and doubling down on it, going harder, for the sake of, what? Pride? The question is which one of them can hold out— can pretend— the longest; which one can love the most with what little there was to begin with?
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Series: Save Your Breath [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921648
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	State of Grace

_This is a state of grace.  
This is the worthwhile fight.  
Love is a ruthless game,  
unless you play it good and right._

**  
***  
  
**

There are a hundred names to a mistake.

There’s poison. There’s toxic. There’s stubborn, unrelenting. There’s _‘I don’t understand.’_ There’s _‘You never understand_ _.’_ There’s _‘I can’t read minds!’_ There’s _‘I’m not asking you to.’_ There’s snapping and calling one’s so-called boyfriend out on his BS, how he would rather die than admit that he’s wrong. There’s snapping back and insisting that that’s not true, that’s _not_ true. There’s paranoid. There’s hypocrite. There’s shouting. There’s sighing. There’s fighting over and over again when no one is looking, where no one else can see. There’s waking up the next day without him on the other side of the bed. There’s avoiding his phone calls and not looking at him when he comes back home from class. There’s ignoring the red flags and all the crumbling signs, the questioning looks given by well-meaning friends. There’s exhaustion. There’s regret. There are tear-stained cheeks. There’s reaching out for his shoulder in the middle of the night, murmuring: ‘ _I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Daichi. I don’t want this to end.’_

(Don’t you?)

The mistake is getting into a relationship that’s fooling no one in the first place, and doubling down on it, going harder, for the sake of, what? Pride? The question is which one of them can hold out— can pretend— the longest; which one can love the most with what little there was to begin with?

(Don’t lose.)

Kuroo wakes up to softened sunlight. He is enveloped in its gaze and the tender warmth that it brings. Kuroo breathes against the skin of his sleeping lover, undisturbed— tangled in sheets upon tangled sheets, their bodies wrapped around each other like there’s no tomorrow. There are clothes on the floor. The bedroom door is unlocked. There’s a sock hanging over the knob, a signal to no one. There’s a chirping noise coming from somewhere, he’s not quite sure. There’s dried drool on the pillowcase that his head rests on. Kuroo, with his reddened mouth, hears a light snoring beside him. When he opens his eyes, he is stroking the hair away from his best friend’s face. Kenma, who he’s loved since he was a child, is beautiful while asleep. Kenma, who he’s been pining for forever— right here. Right now.

Kuroo can’t help but marvel at this development. He feels like he has to check if it’s, well, real. He wants to pinch himself or punch himself, whichever vowel comes easier. He wants to kiss Kenma again, knowing that (even though it sounds cliché as hell) he’ll kiss back.

But then there’s that chirping noise again, louder this time. It’s ruining the moment like some dumb, inept bird. _Geez_ , Kuroo thinks as he extricates himself from Kenma’s arms. He rolls over unto his side and scans the room, listening for the offender.

It’s his phone, it turns out, beeping on the nightstand. He reaches out to turn it off and finds 40 messages staring him in the face. He blinks at them, baffled and alarmed at the number. _40 messages from…?_ Kuroo squints.

His still-boyfriend, Sawamura.

“Fuck.”

As he opens the texts, the weight of the matter dawns on Kuroo. It slams into his consciousness like a pile of bricks. He sits up in bed and scrolls through the messages with shaking hands until he has to put the phone back down, feeling lightheaded. _Where are you?_ Daichi asked at 9PM. _Come back home_ , he sent at 12. _Call me back_ , he pleaded at 3AM. _Kuroo, please_ , he said an hour ago. Kuroo, for his part, can’t figure out how to breathe, the oxygen in his lungs trapped there as though made of stone. The ringing in his ears becomes, at once, the sound of his life falling apart.

To think, he’d been waiting for Daichi to slip up all this time.

“ _Fuck_.”

Kuroo presses his palms together in an attempt to stop himself from slamming a fist down on the nightstand. When that’s not enough, he shoves his head into his hands, grasping at the roots of his hair. The hot tears that stream down from his cheeks to his bare lap evolve into sobs, fast. He’s gasping for air like some marathon-running athlete that’s found himself losing in the middle of a race.

“Kuroo?”

Kuroo exhales. He’s trembling so bad that he’s woken up the younger man lying next to him. Kenma rubs at his eyes and turns on his side. He looks up at his best friend who’s hunched over. When Kuroo doesn’t respond, Kenma sits up as well and rests his chin on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmurs. He leans onto him with a cautious sigh, waiting. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind Kuroo’s ear.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo cries. “I’m so sorry.”

Kenma winces, retracting himself. He sees the phone lighting up on the nightstand and understands what’s happened in an instant. His eyebrows pull together as he moves away. “Don’t,” he mumbles flatly. “Don’t apologize.”

“Kenma—” Kuroo starts. He doesn’t know how to finish. _He’ll get suspicious,_ Kuroo means to say. _He might think I’m with you._

“You should go,” Kenma tells him. His tone is even. His face is blank. It’s the perfect solution; it’s the only solution. _Go to him_. Now.

It takes 10 minutes for Kuroo to get his clothes on. 20 more to compose himself. The next time his phone rings, Kuroo almost answers it like a normal human being. Still, he’s clutching the device so hard that he’s afraid it’ll break. He just hopes his tone doesn’t exude guilt when he opens his mouth.

The Karasuno ex-captain’s voice is frantic when Kuroo picks up: “Where are you? Are you okay? Jesus. Do you need help—?” He sounds hoarse and tired, nearly defeated, on the line. “Look, I’m sorry. Come home. We can… we can fix this. I promise. Please. Just… just come home.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Kuroo replies, taking a deep breath and looking at the floor. “What? No, I’m… Yeah. Yeah, I know. Okay, I’ll… I’ll see you there, then.”

Kuroo ends the call and bites the inside of his cheek, feeling forlorn. He looks at Kenma, still sitting on the bed, naked and watching him die inside.

“Am I a bad person?” Kuroo asks, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

Kenma stiffens, looking away. “I don’t know, Kuroo.”

“He’ll murder me when he finds out,” Kuroo half-laughs, humorlessly.

“He won’t,” Kenma assures him. “Find out, that is.” He stares up at the ceiling, refusing to meet Kuroo’s gaze. “You and him? You’ll work it out.” His face contorts in obvious pain. “You love him,” he mutters. Then, softer: “And I love you.”

“… We’re not nothing,” Kuroo’s replies, voice caught in his throat. He rushes to take Kenma’s hand and holds it to his lips. Kenma struggles for a minute before turning to face him. Their eyes meet. Their hearts know.

This isn’t a mistake.

“ _Kuroo_ ,” Kenma chokes out, chiding his best friend. _Why do you have to make this harder than it already is?_ Kenma lets his hand slip out of Kuroo’s grip. He draws it close to his chest. He hates to the rational one. He hates to be “the brain”.

“Would it be wrong?” Kuroo asks, unwilling to give up. “If I just… left him? Like that?” _If I left him for you?_

Kenma looks away, jaw clenched tight. There’s no question to his tone. “… Yes.”

Kuroo’s heart grinds to dust inside of him. He feels like he’s been slapped in the face. “I love…” You. You. _You_ , he wants to confess, to make his case one more time— “Him,” he reminds himself out loud. Sawamura. Sawamura Daichi. “I love him.”

Kenma nods, ice cold. “Then why are you still here?”

Kuroo gets up off the bed and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he offers, before retrieving his things. He grabs his phone and walks towards the door without looking back. “I’ll call later.”

“Okay,” Kenma mutters. He knows he won’t. He doesn’t have the heart to. Not anymore.  
  


*****  
  
**

_I never  
saw you coming, and  
I'll never  
be the same._


End file.
